Futures Untoward
by ceejay18040
Summary: So what DID happen as a result of Morrigan's and Alistair's little tryst? Set in Origins for relationship s context but later chapters cover a possible outcome of both Wardens surviving. Lots of exploration of personalities & romances ie fluff!
1. Chapter 1

This story starts in Origins, but is initially a series of 'one shots' exploring the personality and background of the female warden (whose origin I have created) and her relationships with the other characters, particularly with Alistair and Zevran (mainly to give some context to the main body of the story). Most of the key events in the game won't be covered, but the Landsmeet and the Final battle will be. The focus of the story is post Origins, exploring how Morrigan's ritual has affected the futures of our heroes. Relationships between the characters and how these develop will be a key theme.

Bioware own all of this apart from my character's origin. Apologies for any glaring mistakes as this is my first fan fiction. Rating will change to M for future adult scenes

* * *

Alistair stared out over the hills and valleys, drinking in the cool clean air of the mountains that surrounded their next destination, the village of Haven. It was so peaceful, yet so magnificent. It was as if nothing could damage this place. Maybe, out here, a man could be free….

His heart was in torment. He could not help but play the argument over and over again in his head

_And just what do you think the Arl is going to say when he wakes up! You sacrificed his wife!_

_The Arl will realise there were greater things at stake Alistair, as an intelligent man he will see that!_

_Oh right, so I'm stupid now am I? Better that than a corrupted murderous! Blood magic! How could you?!_

The look on her face when he had said that. She had been crushed. Why had he said that? Why couldn't he just gather her in his arms and tell her the truth – that she was his everything, that he loved her more than life itself. That he couldn't do any of this without her.

As time had passed, his feelings were getting harder and harder to ignore. He turned into a gibbering wreck whenever he saw her. When she was close, it was even worse. He had imagined so many times how she tasted, what it would feel like to have her body against his. The scent of her skin this morning when she had changed the bandage around his shoulder, the feel of her soft yet strong hands across his flesh. He still couldn't believe how such a ferocious fighter could be so tender. She drove him crazy.

He was running out of time. Once the Arl woke up, he would do what was needed to secure Fereldan. Eamon would make him King and they would have to finally battle the archdemon. He was going to loose her before he had even had her, and he had no idea what to do about it, let alone how to stop it from happening.

A shadow appeared beside him.

"By the Maker!….Morrigan, don't do that please" He glared at the witch who, as she had a habit of doing, had just popped up out of no where.

"Oh do be quiet Alistair, grow some backbone for pity's sake."

Alistair turned away. He was not in the mood for her nasty comments and humiliations. Not now. He just wanted to be left alone.

"What do you want?" he asked flatly.

Morrigan turned to face him fully, hands on hips, chin stuck in the air like some pompous noble's daughter.

"To save myself and our companions from the constant misery that you and Solana seem to insist on inflicting upon the lot of us. It really has become quite unbearable"

Alistair narrowed his eyes slightly and glanced at Morrigan sideways. What was she prattling on about now?

"Meaning what exactly?"

"Meaning, my dear, that despite every fibre in me being wanting to prevent such a union ever ever happening, that you and Solana need to sort this out. Now. Comprende?"

Alistair turned to face her, his brow furrowed in concern and confusion. Now he was really at a loss. Had Solana said something?

"Has it even crossed your mind to tell her how you feel?"

Maker's breath, was it that obvious?

He suddenly felt very foolish, because, it hadn't. Not really. He had supposed that, should she feel the same, she would come running. Because, of course, she was just the type of woman to go around flinging herself at men…..now he did feel like a fool.

"No, I thought not. Well can you please? Then maybe the sickening atmosphere of sexual tension will be over and the pair of you can stop gazing at each other with tormented puppy dog eyes."

Alistair replayed that sentence in his head.

"You mean, she feels the same for me too? Even after what I said? She only speaks to me really to change my bandages…" He was blabbering, he knew that, but he didn't care.

Morrigan rolled her eyes. "She's furious at you yes, but a simple sorry will solve that problem for you. Its clear to everybody, and I mean everybody! That you two are besotted with each other. Maker knows why…."  
Alistair blushed a brilliant red. Could it be true? Not in his wildest dreams had he dared hope that maybe she did feel something for him. Sure, sometimes he caught her watching him, but he had figured that had just been in sympathy.

Morrigan looked at him in disdain.

"Just promise me that you'll speak to her, before I turn you into a toad!"

Back at camp

Alistair returned to the campsite soon after Morrigan, who had flounced off after her threat of sorcerous attackings leaving him to pick his own jaw up off the floor. Solana raised her head and saw him enter the clearing, and frowned in is direction.

Alistair paused under her gaze. Maker was he really going to do this?

Suddenly, he was sent pitching forward.

"Hey!" he cried, ungainly trying to regain his balance. He turned sharply to face Zevran. The beautiful Antivan face glowered up at him, eye half lidded in annoyance.

"Go my friend, before I take your place" he whispered, his accent adding weight to the statement. Alistair glared back before dismissing him with a wave of his hand. It would appear he really had no choice in this matter.

He turned back to Solana, whose attention had returned to the fire, which she was absently poking with a stick. He took a deep breath, and took a slow step towards her, trying to look calm and controlled. All he wanted to do was run and hide in his tent, or be sick, or perhaps both.

All too soon, his toes were next to her crouched form.

The silence was deafening.

"What do you want Alistair" she said finally, her voice ever so neutral. She didn't look at him, just continued to stir at the dying embers. Ouch, this wasn't the best of starts. Still, at least she had spoken, it was different from "its time to change your bandage" which was all he had gotten out of her for the past few days.

Alistair took the plunge, and crouched down next to her. He kept his gaze averted, not wanting to appear forward in any way. He was so scared he was going to get this wrong…..

"Solana, I….I wanted to apologise for my, awful, behaviour towards you. I shouldn't have spoken to you like that. It was wrong. I hope you can forgive me."

His words were barely above a whisper. His throat had gone dry and he felt that his head might explode any second. He couldn't look at her. The silence dragged….dammit woman say something, anything!

Nothing.

Ok well, I tried. They can't accuse me of not trying anymore.

He shifted his weight slightly and went to stand up. He felt a slight pressure on his hand, making him pause. He looked down, and saw Solana's tiny, tanned hand covering his own; her palms roughed with calluses caused by that giant sword she managed to wield so effectively.

"Thank you" she whispered. Alistair smiled his crooked smile at her.

"Your welcome, figured it was time to act like a man for once". He was rewarded by a slight tug at the corner of her lips, but her face remained sad. She started to chew fervently on her bottom lip; her eyes fixed on the flames dancing in front of her. Alistair, took her hand in his.

"Solana, I need to tell you something," he said softly, watching for any reaction.

Much to his surprise, she shook her head roughly.

"No, you don't" she said, almost hissed in fact. Her deep brown eyes darkened even further, and remained staring straight ahead. Alistair watched the muscle in her jaw start to jump erratically. Had Morrigan and the others got this wrong?

"I, er, yes I do, I think, Solana, please?" He sounded pathetic even to himself, but he felt that he had to do this.

"Solana, I love you…."

No body was prepared for what happened next.

With an animal growl, Solana leapt upright, shoving Alistair over hard onto his backside.

"Don't you dare do this to me you bastard!" She screamed, jabbing her finger at him as he lay stunned in the dust.

"Wha…."

"Your going to be the bloody king you fool! All this time, you kept this from me, all this bloody time I dreamed and hoped that…..someday….but it can't happen can it! Your going to be the king! I'm a mere commoner, the two don't mix!"

Alistair just stared at her, wide eyed, in total disbelief. He could hear her words, and knew them to be true, but he wasn't going to accept them. He couldn't accept them.

He rolled forwards, pushing himself up with his hands. He could convince her, he had to. He couldn't loose her now.

"No wait, Solana, we can do this we can….." But she cut him off, shaking her head at him and backing away.

"Don't ask me to love you back Alistair, don't offer me what I can't have!" she cried. He slowly stood, and saw the tears that streamed down her cheeks and dampened the ends of her dark curly hair.

He took a step towards her, reaching out with one hand. He had to make this better.

With a final choking cry, Solana turned and bolted into the forest. Alistair did the most sensible thing that he had done in a while. He followed straight after her.

Zevran watched the two figures disappear, and was aware of Leliana scooting closer to him He took her hand and gave it a squeeze. The bard rested her head on his shoulder with a small sigh. They would both feel their hearts break a little bit more many more times before this was over, and for now, patching up the damage was all that they could do.


	2. Chapter 2

Alistair crashed through the trees after Solana. She was easy to track; being stealthy was not on the top of her priority list at the moment. The forest however, was pitch black. He couldn't see an inch in front of his nose, and so had to follow her through sound alone.

"Solana! Solana!" he cried. Her sobs seemed to surround him, coming at him from all directions.

"Dammit, where in Andraste's name....." he cursed under his breath, turning in circles as he desperately tried to identify where the sounds were coming from.

His hand went to his sword pommel, as he realised that he was out in the wilds, alone, with darkspawn liable to leap from the shadows and beat both of them to a pulp at any moment. His senses were good, but the way his brain was at the moment....well lets just say, he struggled to buckle his armour on properly nowadays let alone have any awareness of his surroundings.

There, to his right. Alistair paused and listened to the stillness. There it was again. A soft sound, like muffled squeaking. Slowly, he moved towards the noise. The trees in this direction had obviously been disturbed, the branches buckled and damaged as if something big had charged through them. Solana wasn't that large, but she had shot off like a cannonball from a ballista. His steps brought him to a slight opening in the forest. She lay ahead of him, dirt streaked across her face, clutching at her ankle which was awkwardly tangled up with a fallen stump that she had tripped over in her flight.

She was sobbing uncontrollably, desperately trying to catch her breath, but unable to stem the tide that was coursing out of her. Her cries were terrible, like that of a wounded animal, raw and broken.

Alistair stopped in his tracks, stunned. This beautiful woman, who had taken leadership of their party without batting an eyelid, who had fought with the heart of a lion when outnumbered 3 to 1 in battle, who displayed such courage in the face of adversity and who would always give anyone the benefit of the doubt no matter their crime. She was, diminished now. Small and scared. It broke his heart.

He went to her cautiously, as one would approach a nervous marbari. She looked up from her leg and tried to pull away.

"No.....don't, please!" she whispered desperately, her lips wet and glistening from her tears. Alistair ignored her, and went down on both of his knees. He couldn't bare this...this was just horrible, seeing her like this. He vowed to try and make sure that she never hurt again.

"Ssssh, let me help" he whispered. Gently, he took her leg in his hands, and bent it experimentally forwards and backwards. He slowly twisted her ankle, and watched her face as it grimaced.

"Hurts there huh? Really bad?"

Solana shook her head.

"Ok, I don't think its broken, try to move it off of the log". Solana bit her bottom lip, as she always did when she was concentrating. Alistair often wondered how on earth she got through a fight without biting her tongue off. She tried to get her hands underneath her to lever herself backwards, but she slid on the wet ground, unable to get purchase.

"Hold on a second." Alistair moved behind her, and gently wrapped his arms around her waist. Make she was tiny! Although they often fought as a team, back to back, he had never realised just how small she really was under all that plate.

"Ready?" he whispered. She nodded stiffly, and Alistair gently pulled her back towards him and away from the log. So far so good, she hadn't hit him yet and not had she yelped as her lag had scraped across the bark. He didn't think she was capable of being overly brave right now, but then again, she has always managed to surprise him

"I think you have just twisted your ankle" he said softly, painfully aware how badly her body was shaking against his. He left his arms linked closely around her waist, trying to offer some comfort. Her body continued to shake as she fought to get her tears under control, the silence punctuated by an occasional but heart wrenching whimper that escaped from her throat.

"You....you can't do this" she stuttered. Her hair covered her face, dragging across her skin in damp tendrils. Alistair boldly brushed the strands away from her skin, turning her body around gently to face him. The moonlight managed to filter through to the forest floor here, and he took her chin in his hand and raised her face to look at him. Her expression stabbed through him like a blade.

"Why Solana? Why can't I do this? I love you" he whispered. She shook her head in defiance.

"No" she mouthed. "No, you don't. You can't" Alistair looked at her in dismay. Why was she resisting this? Could she not see what she meant to him? Her deep brown eyes looked so frightened, so desparing....what had happened?

"Solana, talk to me, please. Help me understand". His face was so close to hers now, she could feel the warmth of her breath on his lips. To his horror, another sob burst forth and fresh tears appeared.

"No.....you can't" she repeated. "I.....I'm broken. You can't break me anymore....."

She seemed to collapse in on herself then. She sagged against him, crying harder and harder, her body shuddering and shaking, as if her very soul was being purged.

Alistair held her as tightly as he could to his chest as her heart audibly broke, rocking her slowly back and forth, desperately trying to reach her in that dark place that she had retreated to.

"Its ok" he whispered into her hair. "I love you, I love you, I love you"


	3. Chapter 3

Firstly I'd like to apologise for the mistakes made in the previous two chapters (particularly the annoying typos!) I assure you I am spell checking and reading through, but it would appear not with my eyes open :)

Zevran may come across as out of character, but I always interpreted his lecherous and carefree ways as a defence mechanism of sorts, so he is more in depth here I hope.

I would be very grateful for any feedback, although I appreciate this is so far little more than another version of what has been done many times before, and so far does not follow any specific time line and so doesn't really read as a story. But it will, I promise :)

I hope this chapter reads a little better than the last two anyway!

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Zevran was pacing again. To and fro he went, back and forth in front of the fire, creating a dust cloud that seemed to have settled permanently around his ankles.

His mind was everywhere.... where was she? Why hadn't they come back yet? Had he hurt her? Such thoughts whirled and circled around in his head, always coming back to 'Where was she'? His pace quickened slightly as he conjured up ever more fantastical images of his dear grey warden impaled and butchered in numerous ways, his heels making little whorls in the ash as he spun around to retrace his line. Back and forth, to and fro....

"Zev, will you please cease! You're giving me motion sickness" Leliana cried in exasperation from the other side of the camp. The elf grunted distractedly in her direction, although it was closer to a growl. He couldn't help it, and she should know that by now. Leliana was more tolerant than the rest of the party of Zevran's little quirks. She understood where they came from, why he was the way he was. She knew that when Solana was out of his sight that he, well he got antsy.

He hadn't intended for this to happen, the whole falling in love with an unobtainable warrior thing. But what with Leli's constant sermons about the maker and destiny and all the rest of it, he couldn't help but think that maybe this was indeed the role he was supposed to play. That his place was by her side. He had asked the maker for guidance, but, as of yet, there had been no response that he could recognise. Maybe it was all talk but, well no, he knew it wasn't. He was hollow when she wasn't near, and that was sign enough for him.

There was something about their esteemed leader that was different, different from nearly all those he had met in his life. He had met a lot of people, AND bedded most of them at that. You get to know someone very quickly if you bed them. They become loose tongued, careless. Zevran figured that it was the intimacy, an intimacy that was hard to avoid, when he was the lover anyway. He had a way with people, his master had once said. Anyone would trust him, eventually. Sex was an excellent way to learn the treacheries and trickeries that occurred in this world, and there was always some fascinating titbit of information to be had.

But Solana, no, she was not like the others. For starters she had resisted his charms with such elegance and finesse that he could not help but love her all the more for it. And, they were the same in some ways. Something had happened to her also, once upon a time. She carried a sadness with her. It was present in her smile, the lines around her eyes, her defiant stance. He had seen her once relaxed, but that was hardly the appropriate word. The mask had slipped, and she had looked...lost. He knew what it was like to feel like that. And she knew that he shared her pain, however remotely. He had done his best to make it clear to her that he got it, so to speak, selecting perfect lines of prose to convey sentiments that could not be voiced in plain language. So far, she had not confided in him, but he had caught her watching him more than once, her face softer than what it normally was. He hoped that one day she would be able to trust him.

He started at the crash coming from behind. Spinning on both heels, daggers already in hand, he saw Alistair enter the clearing in a rush. He carried Solana, limp and apparently lifeless in his arms.

"WYNNE!" Alistair bellowed. Zevran felt the blood rush to his head, as the stress of the past few hours overtook him. _What has he done, WHAT HAS HE DONE??? _He ran towards the pair, dagger raised. He would slit the bastard's throat if it was......!

Leliana's arm shot out infront of his path. He skidded to a halt, panting slightly, his eyes narrowing in anger as he tilted his head to face her. She placed her other hand on his shoulder and shook her head at him. Zevran stood upright, and lowered his arms, taking a deep breath and returning to himself. The bard held his gaze, refusing to release him until she was certain that his senses had been regained. He nodded stiffly at her, and she returned the gesture.

"Come" she whispered, and the two jogged over to where Wynne was now examining their leader.

Solana was prostrate on the floor infront of Wynne, her breath shallow as the healer and Morrigan desperately tried to loosen her cloak and overshirt. Her skin had taken on a sickly pallour, and she was drenched in sweat. Alistair knelt with her head in his lap, stroking her forehead and cooing over her, his voice rising in pitch as he watched Wynne's frown deepen with every passing moment.

"What the…" Leliana started, her gaze darting back and forth between the three.

"I think its an infection, Maker, she said nothing about being wounded…." Wynne muttered, feeling Solana's body all over in an attempt to find the damage.

Morrigan's body visibly stiffened.

"'Tis nothing to do with infection, Mage, and you know this to be so!" she spat. She suddenly turned to glare dangerously at Alistair, amber eyes ablaze and flashing.

Alistair gawped back at her, and moved away slightly despite himself. They were all a little afraid of Morrigan; the boundaries that normally prevented others from committing random acts of violence and cruelty didn't seem to apply to her. Still, Alistair managed to recover some resolve, his expression darkening as the weight of the witch's accusation fell.

"What…you think I did this?! How dare you!" he cried, and angry blush creeping up his neck.

"Look at her Templar! Just look at her!" Morrigan shrieked, pointing at Solana's more exposed body.

"Leliana, can you get some blankets please?" Wynne said softly, not looking at the bard and very pointedly not looking at Morrigan and Alistair.

"Yes Wynne" Leliana replied, her voice heavy with concern. She got a glimpse of the warden as she moved past the group, and couldn't help but notice how slight she had indeed become….

Alistair looked down at Solana's body. She was, very very small. Bony even. The skin stretched over her collar bone which protruded out from her body, and, were those ribs that he could see under the sweat soaked shift?

"I….I don't understand" he murmured.

"When was the last time you saw her eat?!" Morrigan cried, standing and giving the Templar an angry shove backwards. Caught off balance, he fell, grunting as his back hit the ground and the air was knocked from his lungs. He scrambled to push himself back upright, watching with widening eyes as Morrigan advanced upon him, her lips pulled back in a hateful snarl.

"Night after night! And you didn't notice once did you? Not once!" she screamed, kicking Alistair's exposed shins and stamping on his body. She was like a woman possessed (which probably wasn't that far from the truth). He managed to clamber to a half stand, trying to protect himself with his hands and arms, only to feel the force of Morrigan's fist connect firmly with his jaw.

"Ugh" he grunted, falling back into a heap on the ground. By the Maker she had gone insane!

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't….." the witch hissed, the crackle of magic whistling through the air as she drew from her mana pool.

"Morrigan! Stop now!." Wynne's command cracked across the campsite like a whip. Zevran was already alongside the dark haired spell caster, dagger tip resting ever so gently along her rib cage in warning. Should she attempt to complete her spell, he had no issues with running her through. He liked Morrigan, but Alistair was more important to the final goal. They needed Alistair alive.

Morrigan was breathing heavily, residual magic still spitting between her finger tips as the lightning bolt began to dissipate. She kept her gaze locked with Alistair's, who could do nothing but stare back at her in complete disbelief. Animosity radiated from the woman in waves; her anger so tangible that Zevran struggled to keep still and maintain his composure, his skin prickling and crawling under his leather armour. The silence that descended was heavy with unanswered questions and intent. The assassin gave a small sigh and turned so that his back was facing the incredulous warden on the floor, and moved his body closer to Morrigan. She recoiled at the intrusion upon her personal space, which was exactly what Zevran had hoped for; he had managed to switch her focus.

"Step away now, my dear, now is not the time" he whispered, his breath hot on Morrigan's ear. He watched the emotions flit across her face, and couldn't help but feel sorry for her. She didn't seem to believe in much, but she did believe in Solana, and it was clear that she felt that she had betrayed her by allowing her to get so sick. They had all been aware of Solana's eating habits, but had left the warden be trusting that she knew what she was doing. Morrigan, always the first to speak up whenever she thought someone was being a fool, had kept quiet on this occasion. It would appear she now regretted this course of action. For the briefest of moments, a look of defeat entered those mysterious cat like eyes, before the haughty expression he knew and loved returned with renewed vigour.

_There's my girl _Zevran thought.

"Send for me when she wakes up."

The air barely moved as she disappeared into the darkness.

With a heavy sigh, Zevran stepped towards Alistair, who was rubbing his jaw tenderly. He glanced up at the offered hand, and took it, staring at the elf, demanding explanation but unable to find his voice.

Zevran pulled him to his feet, but could not meet that searching gaze, as he tried to find the words needed to explain what had just happened. He decided that spitting it out would be the best, if not the kindest course of action.

"She has been serving you her rations since your shoulder was wounded. She kept saying that you were the most important, that you had to survive at all costs. She hasn't eaten a proper meal for two weeks."

Zevran did not stay to witness the templar's reaction, but the cry that emitted from him was so strangled, it would haunt his dreams for nights to come.


End file.
